Page 66 of Queen of the Shadow

“Your nursemaids know the way to the fort,” Uathach said.

“Oh! Of course.” Scáthach untucked the dagger from the leather sheath around her waist. She cut a small line in her forearm and then leaned over the side just far enough that she could submerge the wound in the loch. She glanced up at Taog and Iain, who watched her with open curiosity. “I’m calling for navigation help,” she told them. They said nothing but kept glancing from her to the seemingly endless fog, swiveling their heads back and forth until they reminded her of owls.

It didn’t take long before the calm loch rippled and the silver of scutes and dorsal fins split the water as huge sturgeons swarmed around the boat, butting against it and forcing them forward and toward starboard.

“By all the gods, what are those?” Iain’s voice wasn’t much more than a terrified squeak.

His father smiled, picked up his oars, and motioned for his son to do the same as he bowed his head quickly to Scáthach and said, “They’re sturgeons. Friends of Béfionn, and thereby also friends of our Queen of Shadow. Row with them.”

Guided by ancient sturgeons, the boat glided through the water. “That was wise of you to remind me to call the sturgeons.” Scáthach let her fingers trail through the water as the boat moved smoothly forward. When Uathach didn’t reply, she really looked at her daughter. Uathach’s face was pale and her expression masked. “Uathach?”

When her daughter met her gaze, Scáthach saw anxiety in her eyes that hadn’t been reflected in Uathach’s face or voice—though the anxiety was very familiar to her. “You’ve had a second vision.”

Uathach nodded.

Scáthach knew if her daughter’s vision had to do with the outcome of the battle at the fort, Uathach would tell her, and as she hadn’t spoken of it, the vision must be personal, or... Scáthach felt a chill in her blood.

“Is it Cuchulainn? Is he dead?”

Uathach quickly shook her head. “No. I would have told you immediately had I seen that.” She paused. Her brow furrowed and she combed a hand through her lion’s mane hair. “I’ve been trying to understand what I saw. It doesn’t make sense.”

Scáthach nodded. “The visions were often like that for me—not comprehendible at first, only to become suddenly completely understandable in a flash when I’m in the right situation.”

“I knew that you didn’t always speak of your visions when they happened,” said Uathach.

“Or sometimes ever. I’ve had visions I still haven’t spoken of, mostly because they still haven’t been made clear to me,” said Scáthach. “Would you like to share your vision with me? Perhaps I can help you see more clearly.”

“Not yet. It’s all too abstract and strange. Let me consider it for a little longer,” said Uathach. “I only just had the vision as we waited for this boat. It’s not even straight enough in my mind for me to explain it to you.” She leaned her shoulder into her mother. “Though I thank you.”

Scáthach let her head rest against her daughter’s. “Always, Little Fry.”

They sat like that, pressed against each other, lost in their own thoughts as the boat slipped smoothly through the water. Riding within the sturgeons’ wake, they were carried swiftly to the fort’s islet. As soon as torchlights glowed through the fog, the sturgeons circled the boat, bringing it to a halt.

“We’ll swim from here,” said Scáthach as she secured her sword and daggers to her body. Uathach closed the lid on her quiver, threaded the bow across her back, and made sure her sword was strapped into its scabbard. They did not need to conceal themselves with the underwater feat; the fog cloaked them. They would need another feat to get them into the castle.

“Shall the lad and I wait for you here?” asked Taog.

“No need,” said Scáthach. “When we leave the fort, it will be through the front doors after Aife and her army have been defeated.”

“Then on to victory, Queen of Shadow,” said Taog with a bow.

“Victory!” Iain echoed, grinned, and bowed.

Scáthach and Uathach slipped over the side of the boat. Each took a long reed pole with her. Scáthach led, holding her floating pole in front of her as if it was a very skinny log. Escorted by sturgeons, they kicked to shore.

They left the water silently and crouched within clumps of grasses, holding their long vaulting reeds. They could hear voices lifting from inside the fort, but not only did the fog vastly hinder visibility, it also muffled sound so that it was impossible to tell exactly where the voices came from. Periodically along the top of the wall, torches glowed yellow, creating misty halos that illuminated little.

“In all this darkness and fog, how are we to know whether we’re vaulting into a group of warriors or even atop a roundhouse?” Uathach whispered to her mother.

“We don’t but the shadows do,” said Scáthach. She led Uathach to a deeply shadowed part of the wall between lit torches. She concentrated on the darkness nestled against the wall and it responded to her, expanding her senses as her sight flowed with it over the wall and down into the fort. Scáthach and the shadows swirled in the deep darkness between roundhouses, guiding her to a part of the fort that was, for that moment, empty of people. “Vault right after me. Place your pole where I place mine. We go over the wall and drop down into concealing fog and darkness, but we must hurry,” she spoke quietly.

“And from there we follow the wall around to the front,” said Uathach.

“Yes. We take the guards and sentries and open the doors to the fort. While Tabiti and the guard destroy Aife’s army, I’ll find Cuchulainn,” whispered Scáthach.

“We’llfind Cu. Together,” corrected Uathach firmly.

Surprised, Scáthach began to protest but saw the iron within her daughter’s gaze and remembered Uathach’s unclear vision. “Ah. Yes. I will be pleased to have you at my side as we free Cuchulainn.” She grasped her pole. “Ready?”